


In the Hesperides

by la_faerie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, kissing fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_faerie/pseuds/la_faerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s been the same way for a few weeks now: Niall moving too quickly for him to keep up with, and now kissing is one more thing he can add to that list.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Niall starts a conversation, and it takes Zayn some time to respond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Hesperides

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Christina, who asked for Ziall kissing fic. I'm not sure this is exactly what she had in mind, but this is what ended up happening.
> 
> This is an AU in that Perrie doesn't factor in at all here, for which I'm sorry. I imagine that she's off being happy and loved-up with her bandmates.
> 
> As ever, thank you to the Ziall fam for being the most chic and lovely people. Thank you to Lindsay for always being my first reader.

“ _A kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear_.”  
Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac

“ _is not Love a Hercules / Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?_ ”  
Shakespeare, Love’s Labour’s Lost

 

Niall rushes at him so quickly that Zayn can’t process the whole picture. He can only pick out pieces of Niall: a shock of peroxide blonde hair, and calluses on the hand that he’s now using to grip Zayn’s elbow. Zayn likes the way the rough skin slides against his own body, and he sways into Niall, without even realizing he’s doing it. There are Niall’s white teeth, (charmingly crooked, not yet forced into braces) smiling right in Zayn’s face. And his mouth. Zayn is acutely aware of Niall’s mouth because one minute Niall is simply looking at him, and the next minute he’s closing all the way in on Zayn’s space. 

Zayn realizes belatedly that Niall is going in for a kiss, and he doesn’t even have time to adjust and properly close his eyes. Niall tastes sweet like the packet of Smarties he’d been snacking on earlier. Zayn feels something hot and insistent pouring into his mouth, as though Niall has something important to tell him, and this is the best way to express it. But there’s something else to the kiss besides pure sweetness, Zayn can detect it spilling in from Niall’s lips. Something with a sharp edge to it, astringent almost. It’s like an undertow that could drag Zayn all the way down if he isn’t careful. Zayn thinks to himself, feeling slightly hysterical, that he _needs_ to be careful. He doesn’t know how to swim.

The kiss breaks with a smile, as does everything with Niall. He drops Zayn’s elbow and leans back, a grin playing across his face. There are those teeth again, flashing white. “Hiya!” is all he says, before he bounds out of the room. But Zayn knows that Niall has just told him so much more than a mere hello, if only he could decipher it.

Even after the fact, Zayn doesn’t think he can fit the pieces together. It’s been the same way for a few weeks now: Niall moving too quickly for him to keep up with, and now kissing is one more thing he can add to that list. Zayn picks his way through the mess of their shared bedroom like a maze (everything Louis owns must be spread out on the floor, which will inevitably send Liam into a tidying frenzy later) and flops down on his bunk bed. He can hear Niall’s laugh ringing down the corridor like a melody, but it isn’t one that he can parse out and sing along with yet.

____

 

It’s December, and the five of them trundle out into the cold night, their voices somewhat muffled under various scarves and coats. Louis still manages to shout at them about remembering his birthday in a week. He won’t have his day being overshadowed by a little holiday like Christmas, and they had all better remember to call or at least text. Zayn files it away in his mind that he can get away with simply texting Louis if he wants. He likes Louis, he likes him a lot, really. It’s just that, they’ve done so much talking lately. It will be nice to _not_ do that for a little while.

They attempt to hug each other goodbye individually, but Harry latches on while Zayn is hugging Liam, and the natural conclusion is a group hug, and, eventually, a dog-pile on the solid frozen ground. Zayn rolls over, simultaneously shivering and trying to stand up, when he sees a mitten-covered hand being offered to him. It’s Niall.

The other three recede, fading into the night like wintery ghosts, and that’s when Niall kisses him again. This time it’s a messy peck on the corner of his mouth, half on his lips and half on his cheek; a burst of warmth coursing through the December chill, and going straight to his veins. Zayn’s mind immediately jumps to _be careful_ but then that’s followed by a different thought, a less defined one, a sort of wistful neediness that he can’t put into words. 

Niall smiles, as usual, and waves goodbye to him. Zayn waves back, but all he can really think about are Niall’s teeth, flashing again with his smile. His whole body feels prickly because, it’s still there, that sharp undercurrent. Niall hadn’t even fully kissed him on the mouth, but he had still tasted it. He thinks maybe this kiss should be easier to understand, because, if their first kiss had been some version of hello, this second one is goodbye. But he doesn’t know why saying goodbye would make his stomach feel all lopsided, and the hair on the back of his neck stand up like it’s doing right now.

 

Later that night, Zayn walks through his own front door and is tackled by his three younger sisters. It’s only then, lying on the ground for the second time under entirely different circumstances, that he realizes maybe it’s possible for the word “home” to have more than one meaning. And maybe nothing is really easy. Because it isn’t easy to understand exactly what Niall had meant by either kiss. And it somehow isn’t easy at all to say goodbye to him.

____

 

The others happen in between.

Harry kisses easy-going and generous. He doesn’t hesitate for a moment to open up the kiss, sweeping his tongue over the roof of Zayn’s mouth. He rubs his fingertips over the tense muscles at the back of Zayn’s neck, and Zayn can’t help melting into it a little. A bit later, Harry pulls away just as easily as he had begun, his green eyes hazy and unfocused, but maybe that’s just regular Harry. He strokes Zayn’s cheek, and goes for a shower as though it’s been a perfectly normal night for him. As Zayn comes to learn, casual intimacy like this generally is the norm for Harry. 

 

Louis might be tipsy, Zayn hasn’t fully learned to distinguish yet. Regardless, he swoops into Zayn’s space with a crooked smile and a gleam in his eye. He hesitates just for a moment, fitting his lips against Zayn’s and resting there, not applying any real pressure. Then he sinks his teeth into Zayn’s bottom lip, sucking hard. Zayn nips back, but he isn’t surprised. Louis does everything with a smile and a bite. 

“I just wanted to see,” Louis says a little while later, when they’re curled up on the sofa together. “You bit back. I just wanted to see if you would.” Zayn rolls his eyes, but kisses Louis on the forehead. Louis throws his arm around Zayn’s waist, and shakes him. “Hey, hey! Have you seen? The new _Avengers_ trailer is out!” And that’s the end of any kissing talk between them.

 

Liam is a complete accident. He grabs Zayn around the waist, and mimes throwing him to the ground. Zayn gets an arm around Liam’s neck to pull at his shirt. They push-pull in that way for a bit like some kind of bizarre dance, and that might have been it. Except that they both make a move forward at the same time, losing the rhythm of their silly waltz, and their mouths knock together. The impact isn’t soft, although Liam’s lips are. They stay like that for a moment, bodies entwined and lips smashed together, just testing it out. Liam is nice, and his lips are nicer, but the circumstances of it seem sort of silly to Zayn. 

Liam must agree because they both break into breathless laughter, and end up telling the others about it. Zayn even describes the accidental kiss to an interviewer, who thinks it’s the most hilarious and wonderful scoop. 

But after the interview, Louis falls into step next to him, eyeing him up. “Giving away band secrets, eh? Careful there.” His tone is feather light in the way that Zayn has discovered means he’s being serious. 

Zayn doesn’t answer him because he doesn’t know how to explain. He casts a glance to his left where Niall is walking beside him. He catches Zayn’s eye and gives a friendly nod, but that’s all. Zayn looks away. He doesn’t think he can explain to Louis the truth of the transaction that had just taken place. He can’t explain that he had given out one piece of information in order to keep another one for himself. 

Because, he’s kissed Liam, and Louis, and Harry by now, and none of it was _bad_. It’s just that the three of them didn’t really tell him anything, whereas Niall did. Niall had rushed at him and told him something all in a hurried jumble, and then echoed it again later. Niall had given him something, and Zayn is keeping it locked away, turning it over and over like a gold coin, until he understands it. 

No, Zayn can’t explain.

____

 

Zayn keeps moving, keeps walking. He’s never alone, always flanked by four others. Sometimes they’re ahead of him, other times behind him, but they’re always nearby. 

Niall in particular is usually around, ready with a warm smile, a joke, an outstretched hand. It’s great fun on the good days when everything is such a brilliant laugh. And it’s just enough to get him through the thankless, gruelling days when it seems like they can’t get a moment of privacy, even among the five of them.

Zayn keeps walking.

____

 

They’ve been here before, France. More specifically they’ve been in this enclosed white room, with questions being hurled at them in a different language, and more quickly than any of the five of them can answer. 

Niall is sitting next to him this time. Sharing small sofas is routine to them now, but Niall is so close that Zayn can smell the hotel shampoo he’d used earlier that morning without even leaning over. The scent pierces through him, a citrus-sharp needle. Niall’s cheeks are pinking up, and his hair shining, gilded, under the bright lights, despite the dark brown of his roots showing through. He’s like a blood orange that Zayn wants to drink in.

The question isn’t all that extraordinary or unexpected. For whatever reason, people frequently want to know which member of the band they would date, and they’ve all probably picked each other at some point. (and, very memorably to Zayn, there was that one interview in which no one at all picked him.)

Zayn doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t leave an open seam for someone else to slip in with an answer. Because, they’ve been here before, but Niall is right next to him this time. That hesperidian shampoo note is still sharp, and only getting stronger. It’s stinging at his eyes, and he has to do something about it. Zayn leans to his left, puts one hand around Niall’s face pulling him in closer. His hand spans the entirety of Niall’s head, which he had known in theory because they all play-fight often, and Niall is a bit smaller than him. But he hadn’t realized that it would make _this_ so much easier. He pulls Niall towards himself in one swift movement, and presses his lips against Niall’s cheek in a firm kiss. Zayn can’t tell if Niall’s face is hot, or if it’s his own lips that are hot against Niall’s skin. Maybe it’s both. It’s a brief moment of heat sparking between them before Zayn lets him go, and Niall sways back in the other direction.

“Niall,” Zayn says in answer to the question. 

It’s only when they watch the interview back a couple days later that Zayn realizes he had closed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten the chance to close his eyes the first time Niall had kissed him, or the second time, really. This time, he hadn’t even kissed Niall on the mouth, only on the cheek. But he had closed his eyes, savoring it.

He feels a hand gripping his shoulder, and turns to see Harry giving him a look. It isn’t a critical look (he’s learned that Harry doesn’t have it in him to be really judgmental) it’s more of an _oh, that’s something, isn’t it? That’s something and I saw it_ look. Zayn shrugs because it is something, but it’s not something that he’s ready to discuss. He isn’t ready to talk about how he had closed his eyes to kiss Niall on the cheek, and how it might be the beginning of a response to the conversation Niall had started a long time ago. 

____ 

 

They genuinely aren’t expecting to win at the Brits this time around. It’s just nice to get dressed up, and drink champagne. It’s a shock of euphoria when their names do get called as winners, and the five of them jump to their feet as one. Zayn turns to his left instinctively, and leans in. He only realizes what he’s doing and why after it’s already over. 

It’s pure insanity that the five of them are even at the Brits at all, let alone winning anything, and for the second time in a row, too. They had done it together, accomplishing what they never could have done individually. And Zayn’s got Louis crowding in behind him, and both Liam and Harry leaning over, but Niall had been sitting to his left all night. Zayn senses a sharply citrus smell again, but he can’t focus on that. He can’t focus because Niall is standing up next to him right now in this moment where they’ve won, and it’s so incredible to Zayn. And it seems vitally important to tell Niall that. So, before he’s even realized that he’s done it, he leans in and kisses Niall. It’s a brief touch, and it lands on his neck instead of his face. That makes it more intimate somehow, and Zayn tries to impart all the meaning that he can. He pulls back to see Niall smiling brighter than any light in the room, and he hopes wildly that even a small part of that smile is for him.

 

It was inevitable, but Liam, Louis, and Harry all take notice now. Well, Harry had begun to notice before. Louis is shrewdly perceptive even though he sometimes pretends that he isn’t, and Liam just knows Zayn so well. Zayn supposes he had been a bit obvious at the Brits, kissing Niall and then getting all misty-eyed. 

He tried to pass it off casually. “I’ve got something in my eyes!” he’d shouted in Harry’s ear. “Don’t you smell that? Like oranges or something. It’s so strong!” Harry had just stared back at him as though he were the drunkest person alive, which wasn’t true. He wasn’t even the drunkest person in the room. And then he had seen Harry pulling Liam and Louis aside, holding a little conference, and it was obvious what they were talking about.

It was inevitable, but it’s also strange, because Niall will be curled up in a chair with his guitar, and the three of them will turn and give Zayn the same exact look. Zayn doesn’t know what they expect him to do all of sudden. Maybe they want him to walk over and ask Niall to play a little on his guitar for him. Or possibly they want him to jump on top of Niall and shove his tongue down his throat. Maybe they’re expecting him to get down on one knee and propose. Zayn can’t do any of these things—not yet anyway—but the three of them seem desperate to wring _something_ out of him.

When he hears his mobile going off a couple days later, Zayn half expects it to be Louis, and wonders if he can just ignore it. But his stomach sinks in alarm when he sees that it’s Liam. He realizes that Liam must be the chosen group ambassador because the three of them had talked it over, and Louis had decided that the situation was so serious that only Liam’s wretchedly endearing sternness could rectify it.

“So,” Liam starts in after some casual hellos. “Harry has offered to write a very poetic love letter from you to Niall, and then Louis offered to slide it into his mailbox, or underneath his door, or maybe sneak in through a window to drop it off. You know, whatever option seems most exciting to him in the moment.”

“Forgery, plus breaking and entering. Sounds dead romantic,” Zayn laughs, but in a worried sort of way. “And what about you, Liam? What would you do for me?”

“Well,” there’s a pause, “I offered to tell you that maybe it’s time to do something, but only something that you’re comfortable with.”

It’s a simple, and sweetly Liam thing to say, and it makes Zayn’s chest hurt. “It’s just that it took me such a long time to sort everything out in my mind,” he attempts to explain. “It’s taken me all this time.”

“I know,” Liam replies, his tone more gentle than Zayn’s ever heard before. “Just, maybe don’t let it take so long to do something about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes out.

____

 

No one could accuse Zayn of not trying because, the thing is, now that he’s started kissing Niall, it’s difficult to stop. Each one leaves such a heady and intoxicating taste in his mouth, that he only dares to take a small sip at a time. So, it’s just a kiss to Niall’s forehead during one of their shows, or grazing the space between Niall’s ear and his cheek to say goodnight, and a kiss on both cheeks before they leave for a week-long break. 

And once, during a show, Niall hands him a bouquet that someone had thrown on stage. Zayn considers it, and then plucks one flower from the bunch, pressing the petals to his lips in a kiss as he looks Niall in the eye. Louis catches sight of this, and mimes vomiting over the edge of the stage.

“In case you didn’t get the message earlier,” Louis sidles up to him after the show is over, hissing in his ear, “your flirting is sickening. Pull yourself together and make a real move!” He smacks Zayn on the shoulder for emphasis.

“It isn’t flirting!” Zayn protests, smacking him back.

“Pure delusion. I don’t have time for this,” Louis declares, and takes off running down the corridor, presumably to tend to more pressing business. (Which most likely includes activities such as convincing Liam to pour salt in Harry’s tea.)

He’s glad that Louis drops the subject so quickly and leaves him alone because this is just one more thing that he can’t explain. Zayn knows flirting, he’s certainly tried it out before, and it doesn’t quite explain what this is. Flirting is too simple an explanation. It’s just that, one time, Niall had given him something all in a rush, communicating everything all at once. Now Zayn is trying to reciprocate and give something back to him, but he has to do it piecemeal. He doesn’t know any other way. He thinks Niall understands. 

Zayn had kissed the flower while looking at Niall, and Niall had grinned back at him, a little suggestively. Yes, suggestively, Zayn had seen it, and it had made him feel like he might fall right off the stage. But there was something gentle in his look as well, and that’s what had kept Zayn grounded. It’s the thing that keeps him grounded every time he feels a tug around his ankles as though he’s about to be pulled under water. He thinks Niall knows that he’s trying. Niall’s absorbing his attempts little by little, and that’s the reason his expression turns soft like late afternoon sunlight melting into dusk when he looks at Zayn.

____

 

There’s a mix-up at the hotel. There aren’t enough rooms, and Zayn draws the short straw so he’ll have to share with someone. Louis immediately careens away toward the lifts shouting “NOT IT!” and it’s a testament to how well Louis has trained them all that no one questions this behavior, not even Paul.

“I don’t care,” Harry shrugs, and claps Zayn on the back. “I’m hitting up the hotel bar right now, but let me know if you need to share the room, or need anything at all.”

Liam turns to him, his eyebrows all drawn together. “Of course you can share with me tonight if you really need to, but Dani and I were planning a skype date…”

Zayn throws his hands up to stop Liam. “No! Thanks mate, but I’ll share with Niall.”

It turns out that Niall had somehow managed to avoid all the commotion and is already up in his room. Paul hands him the extra key card and promises to send the rest of his luggage to Niall’s room later.

Zayn slides the key card in, and swings the door open into the room. Niall is standing in the middle of the room, pointing the remote at the television, flipping through the channels. He turns to look at Zayn, doesn’t seem surprised to see him. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“You’ve been waiting? But, how did you even know that Paul had sent me up here?” Niall smiles, just a small smile this time, no teeth. “Oh.” Zayn sets his backpack down on the floor and walks further into the room. That isn’t what Niall had meant. “I know you have been. I know you’ve been waiting. And I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying to tell you, well, everything.”

“I know,” Niall says, as he shuts off the tv. He sets the remote down carefully, and then turns to face Zayn again. “I’ve been listening.”

That prickly scent is back, it’s sharp in Zayn’s head, in his throat. He tries to keep speaking through it. “You knew something right away, but I couldn’t quite catch on. You’re always moving so quickly, and it’s hard for me to keep up.”

Niall shakes his head. “It’s alright. It’s not about that, Zayn, it never has been. It’s not about keeping up.” 

“I don’t know, though! I don’t know what—” Niall is walking toward him now and that smell is becoming stronger. It’s as tangible as an orange being peeled, or freshly squeezed juice accidentally splashing onto his skin. Zayn’s memory flashes and, with a jolt, he’s back in France, where Niall had been sitting so close to him. He had inhaled that scent until it had driven him wild, until he had needed to do something about it. It had been alright, though, just like Niall is saying right now, because he had been next to Zayn. In fact, Niall is usually near Zayn. He’s usually right next to Zayn. “Oh,” he says again, because it’s maddeningly simple. Is that all Niall had said to him? You don’t need to keep up with someone if you’re already with them.

“Yeah,” Niall says, flashing a smile with the hint of teeth now.

Zayn had sensed that sharp scent, that prickling sensation, and thought that it must have been something tangible, something concrete from everyday life, like shampoo, or cologne. But now he knows that it’s more abstract than that, less easy to categorize. It’s a feeling, a perception. It’s his perception of Niall. Golden fruit.

“You know,” he says, more to himself than to the room at large, “one of the tasks Hercules had to complete was stealing the golden fruit from the garden of the Hesperides.”

Niall wrinkles his nose. “I hope you don’t fancy yourself being Hercules.”

“Why not?” Zayn takes offense, just a little bit.

“Wasn’t his power supposed to be superhuman strength? Sorry, that description doesn’t exactly scream your name.”

“I see,” is all Zayn says. Niall wants to see strength, does he? Zayn thinks that maybe Niall should be careful what he wishes for as he strides across the room, bends down, and hooks an arm around the back of Niall’s knees.

“Zayn, holy shit!” Niall shouts. Zayn ignores him and wraps his other arm around Niall’s back. He wants to sling Niall over his shoulder, but he knows he won’t be able to make it—not because he isn’t strong enough, but because Niall is flailing too much.

“You Irish brat!” Zayn grunts out. “Hold still!” But it’s too late, and Zayn feels a tugging around his ankles, pulling him down. He lands on the floor, flat on his back, with Niall in a heap on top of him. “That was your fault!” Zayn yells, even as Niall laughs at him.

“You always have something to prove,” Niall props himself up on Zayn’s chest and waves a finger in his face. “Usually that you’re the smartest person in the room, and now that you’re the strongest, too.”

“It’s not that I have to prove it, so much as it’s generally true.”

“No,” Niall won’t let him get away with it. It’s one of the things he loves about Niall. “I know you, and you’re an idiot.” 

Zayn laughs at the bluntness, but he really can’t argue. He’d been so ridiculous all that time, worrying when he needn’t have. Of course Niall had been listening to him. He’d been paying attention to the kisses, holding each one close until Zayn was ready to share a new one. “Yeah. Yeah I am, a bit.”

Niall smiles down at him, a full smile. White teeth. “Just a bit,” he says, gently. Then he’s leaning into Zayn, but in much slower motion this time. Zayn has time to process it now, knows what’s coming. He doesn’t want to close his eyes until the very last second, until he feels Niall’s lips brushing against his own. Niall presses light kisses to both corners of his mouth, and then the cupid’s bow before tilting his head slightly, and settling in to suck on Zayn’s bottom lip. 

Zayn lets it wash over him, reminding himself that he doesn’t need to worry about keeping up, that the two of them are in this together, no matter what. It’s difficult though, because that sharpness is stronger than ever now. It’s pouring from Niall’s mouth into Zayn’s. Or maybe it’s the other way around, and he’s the one sharing it with Niall. They’re indistinguishable from one another now. The thing is, it isn’t an unpleasant sharpness, it never has been. No, rather, it’s invigorating. Zayn’s skin is prickling all over, and he’s never felt more alive. 

Maybe Niall isn’t Hercules, and maybe he isn’t the fruit either. Because his thumb is pressing into Zayn’s chin now, dragging his jaw down, as though he’s the one drinking in Zayn. Their tongues brush together, and Zayn arches up, wanting Niall to take more.

But that piercing hesperidian cocktail has made its way into his lungs, and he can’t breathe. He’s never felt like this just from kissing before. In fact, the only time he can remember feeling anything similar to this is when Niall had kissed him for the first time. He had been afraid then of drowning in the sheer force of an emotion. Now here he is, spread out on the floor underneath Niall, and it’s exhilarating and scary all at once. Zayn has to come up for air. “What are you?” He gasps out.

“Are you still on about that?” Niall is breathless too, the color even higher than usual on his cheeks “Neither of us is Hercules, alright? We’ve settled it.”

Zayn doesn’t think they’ve settled anything. He curls his arms around Niall’s waist, and rolls them over as gently as he can so that he’s over top of Niall now. He strokes a hand through Niall’s hair, and runs the back of his knuckles across Niall’s cheek, really taking him in for the first time. He notices something in Niall’s expression. Not fear, but a kind of gleaming uncertainty. It’s a defense system—just in case Zayn decides he doesn’t want to reciprocate after all—a barrier. White teeth. 

Because Zayn has never done this before, and Niall has been so patient with him the whole way through it. He’s been next to Zayn, quietly supporting him this entire time. He can’t blame Niall at all if he feels that Zayn hasn’t reciprocated in quite the same way. But it’s time to change that, it’s time to show him differently.

Zayn leans down to kiss Niall with an urgency, because he’s decided now. _You’re the garden itself_ , is what he says into the open seam of Niall’s lips, licking across his smooth white teeth. _You’re the place where everything flourishes_.

He pulls back slightly, strokes a hand down Niall’s neck, and presses two fingers into his collarbone. He’s waiting for the message to translate. A moment later, Niall wraps both arms around Zayn’s back, pulling him in as closely as possible. Zayn thinks the message must have gotten through because Niall lifts his head, looking to meet Zayn’s lips with his own. It’s like inhaling the golden fruit and everything else good and full of life that a garden has to offer, as Niall opens his mouth fully, letting Zayn all the way in.


End file.
